Page:The life and adventures of James P. Beckwourth, mountaineer, scout, pioneer, and chief of the Crow nation of Indians (IA lifeadventuresof00beckrich).pdf/159

Rh But she was not to be put off. "You are a great brave," she said, "and braves have a right to paint the faces of their wives when they have killed the enemies of the Crows. I am a little girl now, I know; but if I am your wife, you will paint my face when you return from the war, and I shall be proud that I am the wife of a great brave, and can rejoice with the other women whose faces are painted by their brave husbands. You will also give me fine things, fine clothes, and scarlet cloth; and I can make you pretty leggings and moccasins, and take care of your war-horses and war implements."

The little innocent used such powerful appeals that, notwithstanding I had already seven wives and a lodge for each, I told her she might be my wife. I took her to the lodge of one of my married sisters, told her that the little girl was my wife, and that she would make her a good wood-carrier, and that she must dress her up finely as became the spouse of a brave. My sister was much pleased, and cheerfully carried out all my requests. As I shall have occasion to speak of this little girl again, in connection with the medicine lodge, I shall say comparatively little of her at this time.

I spent the summer very agreeably, being engaged most of the time in hunting buffalo and trapping beaver. I had now accumulated three full packs, worth in market three thousand dollars.

One day I took a fancy to hunt mountain sheep, and for company took my little wife with me. She was particularly intelligent, and I found by her conversation that she surpassed my other wives in sense. She was full of talk, and asked all manner of questions concerning my travels among the great lodges and villages of the white man; if the white squaws were as pretty as herself; and an endless variety of questions. I felt greatly pleased with her piquant curiosity, and imparted much information to her. Fixing her deep black eyes upon mine, she at length said, "I intend, some time in my life, to go into the medicine lodge." I looked at her with astonishment. The dedication of a female to the service of the Great Spirit is a dangerous attempt. Like all forms of imposture, it requires a peculiar talent and fitness in the candidate who seeks to gain admission into the sacred lodge. The war-path